


but our innocence goes awfully deep

by therestisdetail



Series: the conversation of prayers about to be said [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: balthazar is such a people person or would be if he were a person, feelings about angel bros, this tour of duty includes babylon, tonight's forecast is ambiguously gen with a chance of angelcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisdetail/pseuds/therestisdetail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balthazar and Castiel stationed together, in the early days of man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but our innocence goes awfully deep

 

The city grows, a living thing that breathes with the seasons. The men and women within its walls have plans. They build, and seek the gaze of angels, and do not know that this thing is already theirs.  
  
“My task is to observe,” Castiel says firmly, “and yours is to protect. We have no orders to take Vessels.”  
  
Balthazar stretches his wings wide and addresses the sun. “We have no orders _not_ to.” He pauses, then looks Castiel’s way. “Climb into something that tiny, brother, and you would be surprised how interesting these towers of mud become.”  
  
Castiel does not respond. It is a silence that speaks only of affection; Balthazar is fierce in joy in a way Castiel has never mastered. It is well, for these humans, to have such a guardian.  
  
“Oh, Castiel. Observe all you like, just... take in the view at close quarters. Please? Just once?” A huff of air as Balthazar presses past him. “Still no? It's your loss.”  
  
Balthazar swipes mockingly at Castiel’s wings as he leaves, and Castiel allows it. He will wait here, he knows, until the sun has risen and set many times, then Balthazar will return from the infant city with stories, and they will have this conversation again.  
  
It is how it has always happened before.  
  
It is how it should happen again.  
  
 _Should_ , Castiel will think later, has none of the certainty it gilds itself with. The twisted things, the demons, come quick and silent and without warning. They come to burn, and the city hums with the pleas of the faithful.  
  
Castiel’s task is to observe, he tells himself, and Balthazar is beautiful in rage; he will save those he is supposed to. But this city is big, and the demons are many.  
  
Balthazar will save those he is supposed to, and wish to have done more. Castiel will wa-  
  
 _No._  
  
One prayer rings out above the others. It is taut like a string, urging him forth, and he goes.  
  
He finds the human on its knees; it welcomes him, and he does not hesitate to honour the invitation, to take on the stangenesses of this form; the size, the senses. The _limbs_. So strange.  
  
He forgets it all when he feels the soul. It is small, and flickers with such great efforts of _joyfearpainwantneedjoywhy_ that he wonders at how it does not break apart at any second. He cradles it in Grace, as gentle as he can. Anael’s advice comes to him, so he soothes the little soul to sleep, but not before he glimpses on a secret not yet visible in the flesh. An even more fragile life held within.  
  
Ah.  
  
 _I must hurry, but I make you this promise,_ Castiel assures the tiny soul. _I will allow no harm to come to you. Either of you._  
  
Then Castiel runs on to the street, and the second person to pass carries a twisted thing inside him. Castiel sears it from the flesh, and goes to find Balthazar.  
  
It is quick work, through crowded streets and screaming children. Balthazar is clear to him, marked out. The Vessel he wears makes no difference. Castiel could find him across nations.  
  
“Castiel?” he rasps, his Vessel streaked in blood. Castiel meets his eyes a moment, before they press back to back, as they have done many times.  
  
“If nothing else,” Castiel tells him, “I observe _you_ better at close quarters.”  
  
Balthazar laughs, in surprise and in welcome. Then they fall in step, side by side, and they kill.  
  
Between the two of them it does not take long; between the two of them, only a few of the humans are lost. When it is done Balthazar stops and turns, touches Castiel as he would touch were they not in these forms, hands drifting across shoulders and neck.  
  
“You chose a Vessel,” he says. “I knew it. Even good little soldiers want to try.”  
  
“No,” Castiel corrects, no longer holding the soft wonder at bay. “It chose me.” The Vessel’s hand rises to its abdomen, an action all its own, a memory deep in the flesh and bone. “It had something to protect. Balthazar. It- I don’t-“  
  
“Shhhhh,” Balthazar says, smiling all the harder. “She chose you. It was a good choice.”  
  
Castiel smiles back as he stands in the sun and feels it through another’s skin, and in the restful moment, finds himself awe-stricken by the idea of having fingers.

 

 


End file.
